Chapter 2: the one i thought was my first real love (spoiler: he was 30)
it started in the middle of the world shutting down.
summer.
houseparty app.
i clicked into a room like it was nothing —
but it turned into everything.
his voice was the first thing that made me pause.
he spoke like he knew things. not in an arrogant way.
more like… practiced.
he talked about how he treats women,
how he plans dates,
and god, my naive little brain lit up like
finally.
that night he messaged me a simple
“hey.”
and my stomach flipped.
i was 20. he told me he was 29, turning 30.
i lied to my friends and said 26.
i knew it was weird, i just didn’t want to believe it.
our first date?
he paid. we kissed.
we got sandwiches after the movie, and i floated the whole way home.
he asked me to be his girl over the phone.
i said yes. he told me he cut off all his “hoes” for me.
that line made me feel chosen.
(looking back, ew.)
the summer was a dream.
dates. playlists. deep convos at night.
he even recreated a date we once talked about —
my heart was gone.
then came fall.
i invited him over while my mom was out.
we were watching a movie, door closed,
and suddenly —
boom.
my mom walked in.
chaos. yelling. crying.
i ran away to my best friend’s house for a week.
(a routine i’d repeat more than once.)
some red flags don’t wave.
they whisper.
and i kept silencing them.
winter.
snuck out to see him.
he made me climb in through his bedroom window
because he “didn’t want to wake his mom.”
you’re 30, sir.
i felt dirty.
he apologized. i forgave. repeat.
christmas came.
i was invited to spend it with his sisters (one my age — yikes).
he didn’t even have a license, so his friend picked me up.
we wore matching pjs.
it was cute.
but i was already feeling off.
fights started.
little things.
then big things.
spring break.
i wasn’t in school anymore — i dropped out.
planned a party at my dad’s house while he was out of the country.
drinks, snacks, weed, music —
vibes were perfect.
until they weren’t.
i told everyone the last bus was at 9:45.
they didn’t listen.
they missed it.
i was mad.
some friends flipped on me.
i spiraled.
locked myself in my dad’s room crying,
popped some pills out of panic and pain.
not proud.
my boyfriend called my best friend.
then called my mom.
i ended up at a clinic.
next day i was home.
wrecked.
my “best friend” told others about his real age.
one friend told me:
“he groomed you.”
i didn’t feel groomed.
but that word planted a seed.
something felt sick in my stomach.
he got mad when i told him.
angry that i’d even consider that.
but the cracks were showing.
summer again.
one year anniversary.
we planned a hotel night.
i told him i was a virgin when we first started.
he said, “i don’t care.”
but now it mattered.
he set the room up cute — lights, starbursts (not flowers — he remembered).
we had sex.
it wasn’t long.
but it was my first.
i felt weirdly empty.
sad and happy.
torn.
later that night, we watched old Batman movies.
i said i loved old stuff,
and he looked at me and said,
“you like old things… like me. or is it daddy issues?”
i should’ve left that night.
then came the party.
he invited me.
i brought my best friend for support.
i walked in and felt eyes.
stares.
whispers.
“she looks young.”
“why does he always go for girls like that?”
panic attack.
full blown.
couldn’t breathe.
my best friend held my hand, and i crushed it.
he tried to help, but i only wanted her.
that hurt his ego.
he got mad.
i left.
he called me the next day.
i tried explaining the anxiety, the stares, the way people looked at me.
he said, “no one thought that. you’re overreacting.”
gaslighting. again.
then his mom said it too:
“she looks young.”
i told him that hurt me.
he dismissed me. again.
a month after our anniversary, we fought again.
i said, “maybe we need a break.”
he said, “we don’t need one.”
we took it anyway.
and yeah.
i pulled a Ross from Friends.
“we were on a break.”
i hooked up with someone i met at a club.
i felt guilty.
but it told me everything i needed to know.
a few days later, i ended things.
on the phone.
he cried.
i didn’t.
we kept messing around a little after.
but the energy shifted.
he wasn’t gentle anymore.
it felt like he didn’t see me as a person.
just… something to use.
a few months later, i found out
he’d been flirting with his young coworkers the whole time.
am i surprised?
not really.
he knew i was a virgin.
he knew i was young.
he knew i didn’t know better.
and he used that.
but here’s the thing.
i know better now.
⸻
Lesson:
sometimes, what feels like love is just validation in disguise.
and sometimes, the ones who say “i’d never hurt you”
are the ones who already have.
protect your softness.
listen to the quiet red flags.
being wanted ≠ being respected.
i was never too much.
he was just too little.